Your Weekend Correspondence; or, Why Exactly It Is That You're Such a Tool

We try hard to cover a little bit of everything here at the HoG. Cricket, Elephant Polo, Big-Wave Surfing (love how they call Gabrielle's husband "Lard") Random Capitalization and Hockey.

Still, we have our little forts . No. 7 knows the innermost workings of Pro Baseball from minor league onward. Our Administrator is capable of executing a perfect neutral-zone trap against the world's puckless...no, really, no wisecracking. He does that.

I spend a lot of time drinking. This makes me an expert in abso-fucking-lutely everything, but even in my besotted case, specialization becomes an issue. I trend toward the NFL, the NFL Draft, Pro Baseball and the NBA. I'm far and away the biggest supporter of professional American basketball amongst our lil' cadre. The Administrator only likes semi-pro players from one midwestern university and No. 7 is too easily distracted by a dynasty that lives in his backyard.

But to waste even a few more sentences on these playoffs--not happening. Not here. We've all read about Saint Nash's honor in only becoming a semi-flopper, Robert Horry's easy new nickname, The Human Sponsorship Reel leading his team to a place that is...ur, not maybe *promised* but still land, in any case, and a Bulls series loss that somehow failed to dim the yelling of Windy Citizens. And since we all did, no talk about it. None.

(Stay tuned for 4,000 words on The Preakness from the point of view of a parasite in Curlin's intestine.) Read more